All The Loney People
by FunnyFloyd
Summary: The man, the monster had not only killed his wife, but Benjamin Barker as well, only leaving a part, hardly human, who's only hunger was to find that man, find him, and destroy him. Yes, he had been more than ready to kill him. Then why wasn't he dead?


Burton/Depp cavalcade! Sweeney Todd- the Demon barber of Fleet Street

**All the Lonely People**

He had had him.

His neck, his throat, he had had him, felt him, his skin, the regular-pulsing vein he'd so often wished to see stop all of sudden, perhaps be lucky to watch the last nerve contractions, then he'd be certain that the man had suffered, died slowly.

_He had had him!_

He had been his, his alone, completely at his mercy. The blade had brushed against him, ready to slice him open and feel the well-known rush of relief wash over him, ten-folded. The man, the monster had not only killed his wife, but Benjamin Barker as well, only leaving a part, hardly human, who's only hunger was to find that man, find him, and destroy him. Yes, he had been more than ready to kill him.

Then why wasn't he dead?

The remaining part of Benjamin, the only part of his mind that was still somewhat intact, his instincts, his anger, his animal, his killer, Sweeney Todd, had come back to London for one thing and one thing only: To find Judge Turnip and kill him. It shouldn't be difficult, he'd told himself on the ship, _simple_, even. At least finding him would be an easy task. The _killing_ itself, however, was going to be a challenge.

You see, it's not when a man has nothing he's in grief. Because he has never tried to hold anything, he has never accomplished anything, never loved or been loved, that way he cannot know what happiness is, thus he cannot know what grief is, either. A man that has nothing got nothing to loose, yes?

It is first when a man has had everything and lost it again he can be in grief.

_I will kill you for ever laying a hand on her, I swear, I will kill you_

Sometimes it would enrage him why he hadn't seen it coming; not once in his life had things gone according to plan; there had always been a wall of resistance between him and everything else. Except from Lucy.

With Lucy it had felt like a dream, soft, floating, comfortably numb. It had been too good to be true. Then Lucy had got pregnant and he had felt something in there, beating, breathing, alive. He had touched his wife's stomach, and felt the tiny electric bolts run right through him as the baby had tried to contact them.

_I will savor every second of destroying you, I will enjoy your scream, like you enjoyed hers_

When Johanna's miniature hand had closed ever so tightly around his middle finger for the first time, it was as if everything he had ever done, said and thought didn't matter, nor had it never done so. The only thing that had a relevance then and forevermore was the blond hair, the brown doe eyes that searched his face with an incredibly bewitching admiration, she had seen right through him, seen his soul and his dreams, his fears, his anger, and she had seen Todd -even before Benjamin knew him-, as well, and that was why he had come back after fifteen years to find her, even though Benjamin was gone; because Johanna, his all and everything, the sun of his life, his angel, had seen something behind Benjamin Barker, she had seen all of his frustration, anger, jealousy, darkness,

_I will kill you for ever taking her away from me_

and she had reached through her father with her tiny hands and grabbed hold of Sweeney Todd and let him know that she would never let go. She was never going to let him forget her.

It had been too good to be true.

Because you can't have a light without darkness. And you can't have happiness without grief. He should have known. He should have taken precautions! He should have grabbed Lucy and Johanna and made them run for their precious lives while they still had the chance. Sometimes, back in the prison, where there was nothing besides yourself and the insanity, he had let his thoughts touch the fragile subject;

Could he had prevented all of this from happening? Could he had left Lucy alone, admired her from a safe distance and eventually forget her and live his life as he had always done, not getting anyone in danger. Keeping her safe, letting her share her live with someone respectable, letting Johanna live a safe and normal existence. It would have been better. None of this would have happened, if he had kept himself away from everyone from the start.

But he hadn't. He had fallen in love, married her, kissed her, held her, loved her.

And lost her. Lost them.

_The blood will pump franticly out of your veins when the blade has slit your throat and I will run my tounge across my lip and _taste_ it, taste your blood, know that it's mine, and that you have suffered. Do not doubt it one second, because I will do it. _

And now, fifteen years later, he was back. Back in London, in his old shop, on Fleet Street. Nothing had changed, except from himself; Barker was gone, Todd had awakened. He had felt it, just as fiercely as the hand around his finger; something had broken, inside of him. He had _heard_ it break. And then came a tide wave of emotions; it was darker than darkness itself, it was more dangerous than the most bloodthirsty animal on Earth, it was furious, it was insane, it was ready to rip apart everything and everyone with the mere force of anger. Not skills nor strength mattered; not when you got the anger. The grief. The insanity.

_The sound of your skin splitting, your vein slit open by my hand, my blade, your surpressed gurgling as you try to breathe with the blood spurting out of your mouth as well as your neck, spalttering on my shirt, colouring it with rubies, landing on my cheek and my lips and my tounge, like a kiss from Death, will thrill me more than you can ever imagine, and I will be far too busy with maltreating you to laugh, but I will, eventually. I will laugh, because, after all, I love the feeling of death by my hand, and I will especially love yours._

But he was more than a madman. He was a psychopath, he was a monster, a killer. And when he found the Judge, when he had him here... Oh yes, the killing would be exquisite, of course he wouldn't kill him right away; revenge can so easily be taken in haste, he had got to be careful not to hurry. After all, it had taken him fifteen years just to get here. He would savor the moments of revenge, he would look into the man's eyes and let him know, let him see, what was in store for him. He would let him know that he would suffer, like Benjamin had suffered, and die, like Benjamin had died, slowly, painfully, writhing in agony, wishing, no, _begging_, for death.

_You touched her. I do not need more than that, but you gave me more. What goes around..._

But, unfortunately, the Judge would be saved; his prayers would be heard and death would come, eventually. Not like himself; he had never gotten what he wanted, what he wished for, not matter how strong he wished for it.

This was a perfect example of said. The Judge had gotten away.

He had had him. Why had he let him escape?

Fifteen years. Fifteen long, painful, agonizing years and he had missed his chance.

__

It had been running through his mind like a mantra, a prayer, if you will, ever since she had disappeared from his arms. He was not to see Lucy again, he knew that as well as he knew that the sun would set. But Johanna. His light in the dark, his love, Johanna, she was here somewhere, waiting for him, captured. Why couldn't he save her when he had the chance? Why had he hesitated? She was his daughter, _why had he hesitated?_

_I will kill you. When I find you, I will. Trust me._

Foggy black stars sprang before his sight and he felt dizzy. A hollow thump informed him that he had fallen to his knees and the darkness consumed him, wrapped its ice cold arms around him, soothing him, though.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, a black, empty and heavy sleep filled with the sweetest nothing. He didn't need to think or feel or breathe again. But when he would wake up, -and he would wake up, oh yes, he would wake up-, there would be

no

such

thing

as hesitation. Ever. He would get him back. He would get him, and he would get Johanna back.

This time it couldn't be too good to be true.

_You will once again be mine_

**A/U:**

**Third and second last oneshot in my Burton/Depp cavalcade, hope you enjoyed it. I did not want to write a story about Sweeney Todd as an actual _living_ person, but a feeling, and anger inside Benjamin Barker, which I see him as. It's like in 'Me, Myself and Irene', where Charlie's suppressed anger eventually splits his personality in two, and he isn't aware of that until someone tells him. In other words: He's a schizophrenic. This story is an attempt to rewrite the song from Sweeney Todd 'Epiphany' as a literary text, because I got the idea with the ''skizo-problem'' from the shifting themes in the song, where Todd from one moment to the next has gotten from anger and bestiality to care and grief. Quite amazing song, in my opinion, and is of course owned by... Shoot, I've forgotten his name :O . The song I've been listening to while writing this, 'Eleanor Rigby', is written and performed by Beatles, therefore (again) not mine. I do not own a lot, to be true. Quite tragic. **


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